


Sleepless

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ice Cream, The Bus, late night encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:36:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night encounter with Jemma leaves Grant Ward feeling warm inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyBat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBat/gifts).



It’s 3:56 in the morning, which means that, even though he can function without much of it, he should be asleep. He’s been watching the red numbers change on the clock across the room for nearly an hour now. At one point he actually attempted counting sheep. That distracted him for all of three minutes, but it seems like sleep just won’t come. It’s not a common occurrence for him, but it’s also no the first time the adrenaline rush following a particularly dangerous mission has kept him up. He figure it will be a couple more hours until his mind relaxes enough to let him get some sleep in. He might as well make some use of the time.

He rolls out of bed and grabs a small pile of unfinished reports off his desk. At the very least, he can get the rest of Skye’s training updates written before they begin their three-day furlough tomorrow. Coulson has some sort of meeting with Director Fury and other senior SHIELD agents. He doesn’t know what it’s about though, that information was not deemed appropriate for his Level 7 knowledge. But they’ve all been granted three days off, as long as their back in London to board The Bus at 08:00 Thursday. Ward has booked a nice hotel room, the bill being covered by SHIELD, but he hasn’t planned anything beyond that.

He’s headed for the conference room, so that he can spread his work out and get a better perspective on what aspects of Skye’s training he needs to overhaul, but swings by the kitchen to grab a cold bottle of water. He’s a bit surprised when he notices the kitchen light is on, but he figures it must be Melinda May. Sometimes he wonders if she gets more than a couple of hours of sleep in a week. He’s a little more surprised when he enters the room to find Jemma Simmons seated at the table, a book in one hand and an empty bowl, a spoon, and a full container of ice cream set out in front of her.

She doesn’t notice him come in, so he raps gently on the doorframe, trying not to startle her. He’s unsuccessful.

“Oh Christ,” she says, her book nearly flying out of her hands. “I didn’t see you there. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He chuckles. “Sorry. Just wanted to grab some water.”

He’s headed for the fridge when she asks him, “What you doing up so late? It’s four in the morning.”

With his head half in the fridge, arm reaching to the back of the fridge where their dwindling supply of water bottles lies, he notes “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Can’t sleep. My parents are taking a train down to London to see me tomorrow. I’m… excited?” The last word comes out like a question, and Grant is fairly positive excited isn’t even close to the right word.

“And this will be the first time you’ve seen them since…” he trails off at the end, not sure how to recount what happened without turning it into a painful reminder for her.

“Threw myself out of a plane to what I thought was my certain death?” she supplies for him, forcing herself to remain upbeat despite the horror of what she’s saying. “Yes. Not that they know that.”

This surprised Ward. “I thought you told them about it a couple of months ago. After the Asgardian cleanup?”

She puts the book down on the table and busies herself spooning the ice cream into her bowl with the small kitchen spoon she had out on the table. She doesn’t make eye contact.

“I couldn’t very well tell them that, in the span of a few hours, I contracted an unknown, fatal virus and then tried to kill myself. They already worry about me being in the field, they would have been beside themselves if they knew what really happened. They know I got sick, and they know that I took a dangerous fall. That’s enough.”

He’s a bit surprised by that at first, although on second thought he realizes he shouldn’t be. Jemma Simmons is always looking out for everyone else. She has to calm Fitz down every couple of hours when they’re in the field. She even rendered a superior officer unconscious in an attempt to look after Fitz and himself. Hell, the entire reason she threw herself out of the plane was to save the team. Lying to her parents is actually tame in comparison.

He’s not really sure he has anything more to offer, but she grabs another bowl and spoon before pushing the one she just filled across the table to him. Clearly she needs to talk.

“I don’t feel bad about it, not really. Well, not that much. But I’m a terrible liar; I’m afraid they’ll know something’s wrong with me. I don’t want to make it harder for them.”

That’s understandable to Grant. Pretty much everything about Jemma is understandable to him, with the exception of the scientific jargon and ability to finish everyone’s sentences.

“You’ll be fine,” he reassures her. He’s not actually certain of that, he doesn’t know enough about her parents to gauge that reaction. But something inside him is pushing to comfort her. And those words are the most he can offer in the current situation.

“You can’t possibly know that.” She sees right through him. “What if they want specifics?”

He lifts a large spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth in order to give him time to think of a good response. He can taste fudge and peanut butter, but the only thing he can think to say in response is that she has excellent taste in ice cream. He decides not to go with that.

“You’ll manage. You’re a genius. I’m sure you can come up with some big words to explain it all away. And you work well under pressure. You can handle it.”

She blushes and he can feel his own face grow how as well. Training Skye has made him more comfortable with giving out compliments, but these seem to carry more weight with them. He compensates for his flush by shoveling the remaining ice cream into his mouth, focusing intently on the bowl until it’s empty. When he’s gotten himself under control, he looks up to see that her bowl is empty too and she’s putting the lid back on the container.

“Thank you for letting me vent,” she starts. “Normally I would go to Fitz, but he’s still a wreck over what happened. Also, you’re a good listener. Probably because you’re the strong, silent type. Fitz would just tell me to come clean to them about it. He doesn’t really understand that it’s not that simple.”

Grant nods and grabs both of their bowls. He uses the time it takes to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher to process the fact that she’s chosen to talk to him about this instead of Fitz. Part of him dismisses it as him being around at a convenient time, but a part of him secretly elated that she chose to confide in him over the person who has essentially been her other half for the last few years. When he turns around she’s standing right in front of him, with her book cradled against her chest.

“I should head off to bed now. I’m sure to crash soon. All that sugar, you know.”

She tries to skirt around him towards the doorway at the same moment he moves to grab his reports. They both move in the same direction and find themselves pressed up against one another.

He can feel the heat from earlier returning, this time growing in the pit of his stomach rather than creeping up from his neck. He lightly places his hands on her shoulders and nudges her to his left, while he moves right and picks up his papers. The heat doesn’t stop; it just extends to his hands, where they touched her. Nodding at her, he quickly moves out the kitchen door and down the hall to the conference room. 

A few moments later, he hears the door to her room creak shut. Only then does the warmth inside him dissipate.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TinyBat's prompt "ice cream."


End file.
